A Following
by mariteri
Summary: Hermione develops a following in the person of James Bond when she goes into the MI6 headquarters. Who is she and how is it that he doesn't know her? Is she what she appears to be or is there more to her than meets the eyes? Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, James Bond, or any of the characters in either series of books and/or movies. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Hello! Hope you all are doing well. Here we are another crossover and with a spy thriller genre too! Hope you like it. Review to let me know what you think of it. Let me know if you think it works. Enjoy!**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter One**

It wasn't the young woman's looks that caught James's attention. Though truth be told she was a very pretty woman—not beautiful, but definitely pretty. Petite woman with delicate features and lovely brown eyes that hinted at the same chocolate brown to amber of her hair. The hair—that wild nest of curls, was pinned up and was still managing to fall down about her face. She was dressed casually that day in jeans, a sweater, and a pair of trainers that had all seen better days. And even so, she slipped through security as if she belonged there—which he sincerely doubted.

It was curiosity that had him following her through the entrance way of the building that he had been leaving. James hadn't planned on doing anything that day other than making the final report to M in regards to the last mission. She went through security after security checkpoint without issue. And even at one point was stopped by M of all people.

"You're looking well, Miss Granger," she murmured, looking her over. "Here to see Q?"

"Yes, he said he needed a helping hand with a new one of his gadgets. But I dare say he did as much to get me back into the lab to pick up some more of Grandfather's things." She smiled. "Last time it was that god awful jumper of his."

That had M smiling in remembrance. "Yes, he did love that ratty old thing, didn't he?"

She nodded. "Oddly enough the undertaker and I had a heated row about if he should be buried in it. He won simply due to the fact that I couldn't find the thing."

That had the older woman laughing. They made their goodbyes and she went on. He hid himself from view as he went past M, knowing that she would have stopped him for longer than he wanted. The girl had him curious and he was going to keep following her until he had some answers.

She got through all the levels of security and it was when she had stopped at the handprint scanner that he wondered how she was going to get through when she pressed her hand to the palm plate and she was admitted without issue. Frowning now, he dashed after her and made it through just as the doors were closing.

She looked around at all the scientists testing their different weapons. Stopping to observe one of the men as he looked to be about to point a stick at one of the dummies that she shook her head at the stance the man was taking.

"Blaise, you'll be knocked on your bum if you fire like that," she drawled.

"What?" He looked over to her. "Hermione! Come to visit the Quartermaster?"

"That I am," she told him. "But first things first, what does it do and is there a kickback you should be concerned about?"

He beamed as he showed off the mechanical device that looked like it was either a wand or that sonic screwdriver that belonged to the Doctor.

"I got the idea of a hand held laser," he told her.

"Really?" she asked. "Why?"

"It seemed neat."

She nodded to this before asking, "What kind of laser is it?"

"A sub-conductor," he answered with a proud grin.

"So it cuts glass," she asked him. "And not much else?"

"Uh…"

"You might want to rethink that," she told him. "Before firing it and burning your hand." Blaise looked to it. "You didn't insulate it. And given what you have it pumped up to in order to conduct this test, chances are it'll produce enough heat to give you a very nasty second to mild third degree burn. And that's if you're lucky." She patted his shoulder. "Good luck with that."

She was no further than a couple of meters away when he fired it anyway and screamed in pain. The girl rolled her eyes in exasperation and went on her way.

James continued to follow her, as she managed to avoid getting into the way of several of the experiments going on as if she did this kind of thing all the time. She stepped next to Q and was handed special glasses.

"Lasers?" she asked him, sliding the glasses on.

"We work with more than just lasers, Hermione," the Quartermaster told her.

"The glasses you handed me are tinted," she murmured. "And are heat resistant…"

"So okay, it's a laser," he muttered, which had her chuckling.

"Relax, Zander," she told him. "It's okay to like to play with lasers."

He flicked a look over to her.

"My grandfather said it was part of the real fun on a good day," she murmured.

"And on the bad days?" he asked.

She shook her head, telling him, "That would be completely unrepeatable in mixed company."

That had the older man laughing. "Yes, you're Grandfather had a mouth on him at times."

She smiled, but James saw the sorrow there so plainly.

Lasers shot out of the headlamps of the car parked in front of them. Hitting a moving dummy crossing the pretend crosswalk. The laser not only went through it, but the masonry wall behind it as well.

She winced. "Talk about overkill. Zander, that thing would have gone clear through a school _and_ its students."

"Needs work," he muttered, as he wrote the note to himself. "Now, hellos!" He set aside the clipboard and glasses. "Hermione! My dear, it's great to see you again!" He pulled the laughing girl into a hug. "It's been too long."

"Yes, it has," she said. "It's good as always to see you as well, Zander. Or should I be calling you Quartermaster?" She patted his shoulder. "What with it being your proper title and all."

"With you, I won't stand on ceremony," he told her.

"Very good," she said, as she turned to face James. "Now introduce me to James Bond. He's been following me since I entered the building."

"What…Him?!" He gritted his teeth and muttered, "Damn."

"You always have a way with words, Q," James said as he strolled over. "I'm James Bond."

"I know," she murmured. "And I'm Hermione Granger."

"Yes, I heard as much," he drawled. "How is it that we never met before?"

"More than likely due to my Grandfather's standing order to make sure that you are at least fifteen meters from me at all times," she informed him with a teasing grin. "I do believe he compared us to nitro glycerin."

"Yes, very deadly when put together is what I heard him say," Q told her. "I have some more of your grandfather's things in my office…"

"Zander, I told you that you could keep them. Unless there's more photographs, I want you to have them."

He asked, "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

Blushing he said, "Thank you, Hermione. That means so much to me."

"I know," she said quietly, handing him the protective eyewear she had used. "Now! If you don't mind, James here is taking me to lunch." She went over to James.

"He is?" Zander nearly screamed.

"I am?" James drawled.

She slipped her arm through his. "Yes, how else will you get any answers you appear to be wanting?"

"Very true," he replied, patting her hand. "Until later, Q."

"See you later, Zander!"

"But…Hermione!" He stopped dead in his tracks with his head lowered and he muttered, "I knew I should have had her meet me in my home."

**TBC…**

**…**

**And that's the first chapter out into the internet universe. How do you like it? Review to let me know! Thanks for your time and have an absolutely wonderfully supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (Wow! Spell check actually fixed my spelling of that! Go figure) day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, James Bond, or any of the characters in either series of books and/or movies. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Hello once again! Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter Two**

As soon as they were seated, James grinned and asked her, "Something tells me that you wanted to ask me a few things as well during our meal."

"Most probably because I do," she replied. "Not to worry, nothing too terribly intrusive. For the most part, I'll be asking yes or no questions. Where you take them beyond that, is up to you."

He thought that over before nodding and said, "Sounds fair."

"Did you find that therapy helped you at all?"

That hit him hard, but still he did take the time to think that over. Trouble was that his answer would be vague at best. "A bit."

"But you ended up sleeping with your therapist," she murmured. "How would that help?"

His brow arched. "It helped me get out of therapy."

"Ahh," she said. "Makes sense in a weird sort of way."

"How so?" he inquired.

"I overheard my Grandfather declare once, 'If James Bond can't shoot it, screw it, drink it, or kill it he wouldn't know what to do with it.'"

That had him chuckling. "Your grandfather always did have a way with words."

Smiling she said, "That he did."

"So do tell, how is it that you have such high clearance?"

"I should have expected you to ask that," she murmured. "I'm only permitted to say that I do freelance work for MI6."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I'm only permitted to say as much as I just did—even to you," Hermione drawled. "I grew up in the business, you could say. You know of my Grandfather, of course, and then there were my parents. That's how they met. He was Recon and she was R&D." She smiled. "Their covers were that they were dentists."

"Were?"

"They died a year before my grandfather," she told him.

"I'm sorry to hear as much," he said. "I think I met your Mother once."

"From what I heard, you've more than met most of the women within MI6," she said dryly.

That had him chuckling a bit. "Yes, I do have a reputation, don't I?"

"Reputations are often exaggerated," she said. "Take for example myself. According to a professor I used to have, I was a know it all."

"And you don't know it all?"

"I only mostly know." Her lips twitched at her own joke that had him smiling as well.

"How is it that you knew that I slept with my therapist?"

"I was waiting for my appointment with her when you came out," she said. "True, it was into a different room, as they want to respect the privacy of the agents. But when I went into see her, she was grumbling about unprofessionalism while getting redressed and cursing your name." She frowned. "It was either cursing or praising it, but it was very difficult to tell as she was saying as much under her breath."

"What did you say to her?"

"That talking to one's self was one of the first signs of insanity," she replied. "Needless to say, she didn't take that well."

"I can't imagine why," he said dryly.

"I couldn't very well sleep with her to get her to kick me out of the session, now could I? It would have shown a terrible lack of imagination and, just between you and me, I don't go that way."

That had him laughing quietly. "Did she kick you out?"

"Between that and what I said about Freud being absolute shite when it came to science, I had her fairly infuriated at me," she answered. "Even so it wasn't until I mentioned that she was missing a stocking that she threw me out."

"What were you going to therapy for?" he asked her.

She responded, "You first."

"I'm not permitted to speak of it."

"I'm not either," she sighed. "But I'll tell you just some of it." Hermione was quiet a moment. He could see how she was sussing out what she could and couldn't say. "I was a part of the operation that took down the cult that did the terrorist attacks in the late '90s."

He thought that over. "I was out of the country at the time on assignment. I heard about them from Moneypenny."

"Yes, Eve is a font of information, isn't she?"

"So you know her as well?"

She nodded. "How could I not?"

"How is it that you know all these people I work with and yet you and I have never met?"

"I wager that it was mostly my Grandfather's doing. And now that Zander is in charge, he's just carrying the orders forward."

He thought that over and said, "Q must have had the worst opinion of me."

"Not really," she murmured, sipping on her water. "Grandfather had great fun with you. He just didn't think you could keep it in your pants. Not one of the best traits a man can have, but not one of the worst either."

That had him laughing. "Thank you. I think."

Hermione was still laughing when something caught her eye. "Damn." She looked him in the eyes. "I'm not here." And she dove under the table.

Two minutes later, James looked over to see a tall redhead looking around frantically with a sour looking blond woman on his heels.

"I could have sworn I saw…"

"Who cares?!" the woman whined. "Ron-Ron! You promised me dinner!"

If James hadn't had the firm grip on his responses, he would have rolled his eyes. The young man did roll his eyes and the two of them left without another word.

"It's safe to come out now," he said.

Hermione popped out, getting back onto her seat. "Sorry about that. Ex-boyfriend. It didn't work out and he's in a relationship with Lavender…" She looked at him. "Right, you don't want to hear it." She looked at the menu. "Do you know what's good to eat here?"

"Certainly. Do you mind if I order?"

"Not at all," she murmured.

It wasn't until after he ordered for the two of them that he looked her in the eyes and said, "I just realized something."

"Nothing too terrible, I hope?" she inquired.

"Depends," he replied. "I recalled that said therapist is a specialist in post-traumatic stress, as well as dealing with people that have been put through torture."

They were both silent for a time before she said, "We can't speak of it. So I have little notion why you should bring it up."

"Just how high does your clearance go?" he pressed.

"High enough to know better than to speak of it here in public."

"Makes sense." James stood up and reached out his hand to her. "Come with me."

She took it and he pulled her over to the back of the restaurant. Once to the back, a man took them over to a room there. Releasing her hand once they were in the private dining area, he turned to the man that had taken them there.

"François, if you can be so kind as to bring our meal here?"

"Of course, Mr. Bond," the man said and he went on his way, closing the door behind himself.

No sooner did the door shut, did she smile and say, "My clearance is just as high as M."

Shock was clear on his face. "How?"

"My work," she told him. "It's very…secretive business."

"And what's that?" he asked her going over to the table and sitting down, as he was preparing for the worst if necessary.

She thought over what to say and murmured, "The Double Oh program has been around for approximately forty years. There are at any given time fourteen Double Oh agents…"

"But what does that have to do with your job?" he inquired, as he to made his way over to a chair only a couple away from hers in order to watch her face.

"I'm getting to that," she answered. "For you to understand what my job is, you need a bit of history."

"I think I know who you are," he said his voice low and hard.

"Really? And dare I ask, what is that?"

"You're the Double Oh killer."

**TBC…**

**…**

**And that's another chapter put to bed. Thanks for reading, reviewing, not to mention follow/favorite this story. It's like warm freshly baked chocolate chip cookies—only better. No calories! Take care and have a vivid day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, James Bond, or any of the characters in either series of books and/or movies. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are at the end of the story. Enjoy!**

**…**

**Chapter Three**

Chuckling she shook her head no. "I don't have a license to kill. That's you." Leaning back, she remained quiet as the waiter with their food came in.

After being served their meals, she sipped on her water and went on with what she was speaking about. "Haven't you ever asked yourself how you're so well known?" He stared at her. "Didn't you question when you started your first job as a Double Oh, how was it that everyone already knew your name?"

He frowned at that. "I never put much thought into it. I had a job to do."

"Yes, you did," she murmured. "But you don't now. You haven't had an assignment in months. And you've had nothing but time to think, haven't you?" When he said nothing, she asked, "Have you ever heard of a movie titled 'The Princess Bride'?"

Frowning he muttered, "What does that…"

"I'll take that as a no," she interrupted and then said, "This would be so much simpler if you had, but there's nothing to do about that now." She studied him a moment. "There's power in a name, especially an established name. And MI6 realized this very early on. It develops a certain mythos all its own that no amount of gossip can diminish. In fact, it is that very same thing that increases the power of that name. Makes it bigger than life itself, if you will."

"And what does that mean?"

"There's been a 'James Bond' in the Double Oh program since its inception," she told him. "It's part and parcel of being the .007. A person can work towards being a Double Oh agent, but you earn the number and thusly the name."

"James Bond isn't my real name?" he asked, his voice a bit hollow.

"No, your name is Linus O'Conner," she replied. "You were born Irish, but raised in England since you were in your teens. You joined the military young and worked your way up the ranks. It was there that you caught the eye of MI6, and you eventually ended up working there."

"But you still haven't told me what your job is!" he snapped.

"I'm trying to," she said calmly. "I'm part of your transition team. The team that will help you back into the life of Linus O'Conner."

Clearing his throat, he asked, "How?"

"My position has been around for as long as yours has been. Before me there was a man by the name of Albus Dumbledore. He has since passed on. And so now I do what he once did."

He just stared at her, saying nothing.

"I give you a new life with everything you wish to have in it and nothing you don't. If you have a request, you have to but ask for it and it's yours."

"The nightmares…"

"Gone." He blinked at her. "Do you think you were the first to live through hell and had no wish to recall it even in dreams? This process took years to fine tune, but in the end it was decided to wipe the memories. This was supported by the evidence when the first James Bond made a reappearance back in 1983. It was a messy business and he was eventually dealt with. Albus was still new at this when he dealt with the first one. Something tells me that he only wanted the man to be happy, but he didn't know how to do so."

"You're going to wipe my memories? All of them?"

"Only those as James Bond," she told him. "You'll also be given new ones, along with a life better than you would have ever have dreamt of as Linus O'Conner."

"I am James Bond!" he snapped.

"He's a part of who you are now. It's impossible to deny it." She looked at him more intently and told him, "But James Bond is immortal. He will live on regardless of who carries the mantel." When he pulled out his gun, she shook her head and muttered, "Violence? Really?" She absently waved her hand and the gun went flying out of his grasp, making him gasp. "Regardless of who does my job, where it is to happen or even when—this _will_ happen eventually. I was hoping you'd be amendable to it, given everything you've been through. There's a very big, beautiful world out there and you don't have to kill or be a spy to be a part of it."

His fists went tight. "I have no choice then?"

"When and where, but that's about it I'm afraid," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"So am I!" He moved to make a quick strike, but she was gone. Looking around, he jumped up and searched the room, but she wasn't anywhere there.

Rushing out of where they had been, he looked around the restaurant frantically. But he couldn't find her. He went out onto the street, looking as he had before. But again, she couldn't be found.

Meanwhile, across the street, invisible to his eyes was Hermione Granger. She had hoped to be able to find out the kind of life he had wanted. Oh well, there's nothing to be done about that now, she thought as she pulled out her wand.

"_Obliviate_," she breathed, hitting the man and sending him staggering into the door to keep himself upright. Next was the other memory charms that would implant the new memories. Having changed out his wallet earlier, she didn't need to worry about that. Hopefully the tickets to Tahiti she magically planted into his inner jacket pocket would have him taking his first real vacation ever would start him off in a life he deserved.

Her partner, Blaise Zabini, came out dressed as the maître d looking very worried. Catching his arm, he asked, "Are you okay, Mr. O'Conner?"

"Yes, yes," he said, shaking off the dizziness. "I'm fine. Just been working too hard is all." Linus pulled out the ticket and waved it. "I best be on my way. That bonus for all that work I just finished up."

"That's great, sir. Good luck," Blaise murmured, and they watched as he walked away towards a new life.

Hermione pulled out her telephone and called M.

"Is it done?" the older woman asked her.

"Yes, it's just finished up," Hermione told her. "He's on his way to Tahiti as we speak."

"And what's going to happen then?" she asked.

"He'll meet the woman of his dreams and retire to obscurity," she said casually. "It may not be happily ever after, but it beats living the rest of his days as James Bond."

"Yes, indeed it does," M sighed. "Good work, Miss Granger. When should we expect you back?"

Blaise was yanking off his tie, as he crossed the street to join her. "I will be going to visit family in Italy and Paris. My team and I will be back in time to help with the selection of the new James Bond in six weeks."

"Very well," M murmured. "See you then." And she hung up.

Hermione went to tiptoe and kissed her husband's lips lightly. "How's the hand?"

"I healed it," he told her. "How is it that you knew that I was going to burn myself using that laser?"

"My Grandfather was the Quartermaster for the better part of thirty years," she told him. "How could I not know that laser was going to burn you?" Worrying her lower lip, she asked, "How did it go with Zander?"

"Smoothly as expected," he murmured, cupping her face and stroking her cheek with his thumb. "He'll be happy where he is, love. I made sure of it."

Hermione nodded to this. They had made the plans for Zander together, as she had wanted to ensure that the older man would be happy where he ended up. James Bond hadn't been the only position within MI6 that was mobile from person to person. The Quartermaster position and the position of Miss Moneypenny were as well. Miss Moneypenny had been taken care of by Severus Snape the week before and the new Moneypenny was currently in training. As for her Grandfather, as he had died while in the post, his memory hadn't been wiped. The same couldn't be said about the man before or the one to come afterwards—unless the newest Quartermaster dies while still in the post as well. But the chances of that happening were slim.

"Let's go, Hermione," he said, holding out his hand to her. "Our portkey to Milano and Severus awaits."

Smiling she slipped her hand into his and the two went on their way towards as ordinary a life as either of them would ever know.

**The End!**

**…**

**And that's it! Thanks for joining me along for the ride. I saw that there wasn't any Hermione Granger stories in the James Bond crossover section. This was something I saw I must fix! Review to let me know what you think. And until next time, iyi olmak (Turkish).**


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